Gratitude
by LoonyLovegood94
Summary: Draco Malfoy is not one to show gratitude. That is, until a certain muggle-born witch earns it in DADA class.


**Written for the Triwizard Tournament, Event One. **

**My prompt is to write about an exciting Defense Against the Dark Arts class. **

"Why is Potter running the class?"

Hermione Granger's head whipped around, wand sparking in her hand as she tersely eyed Blaise and a group of Slytherins lounging around in the back of the room. He'd been scowling and spitting out insults since the beginning of class and she was about ready to hex him.

Everyone was on edge lately with the war looming just around the corner. It was a wonder Hogwarts remained open during such trying times, but there was no doubt that the castle was currently one of the safest places to be. Unfortunately, many didn't see it as such after Dumbledore's death. Many students had been pulled out by their parents and several teachers had resigned and went into hiding. The school that was once bursting with life now housed only a small fraction of it's previous numbers.

Several of the other classes had been discontinued as the remaining professors were kept busy much of the time, attempting to hold up and strengthen the castle's defenses didn't seem like an easy task. So McGonagall, their new Headmistress, had appointed Harry with the duty of training them in defense. In Hermione's opinion, it seemed like the most logical option. Harry was the only one to have faced Voldemort multiple times, so who better to teach them?

Apparently the Slytherins that had decided to stay behind refused to see it that way.

She opened her mouth, a smart reply on the tip of her tongue for the arse, when a voice from behind beat her to it.

"Bloody hell, Zabini. Give it a rest, will you?"

Every single head in the room turned to gape at none other than Draco Malfoy, who was perched on the edge of the professor's desk and and drumming his fingernails against the mahogany wood. He wasn't scowling or sneering as per usual, although Malfoy hadn't been acting normal since he'd been allowed back.

At the start of term their Headmistress had informed the student body that Draco Malfoy would be permitted to continue his education at Hogwarts. A majority of the students and parents were outraged, even a handful of the professors had been seen shaking their heads in disappointment.

In private, she'd told Harry, Ron, and Hermione that Malfoy and his mother were in hiding. They'd broken ties with Lucius, the Death Eaters, and Voldemort and were in need of protection. His mother had been holed up in a safe house somewhere and his sanctuary would be Hogwarts. In return, they would share any knowledge or information they had about Voldemort and his followers. There were two more conditions Harry had informed her of, and for the first time in her life Hermione had felt a sliver of pity for the ferret.

Any contact between mother and son was forbidden. No letters or visits, as far Hermione knew he didn't even know where his mother had been relocated. Lastly, Malfoy's wand was confiscated. He wouldn't see it again for two years, which ultimately left him defenseless if something were to happen.

Since he'd been back, Malfoy kept to himself. Very few Slytherins welcomed him back with open arms. He was not only isolated from his own house, but all of Hogwarts. Some of the braver, or rather more cowardly students in her opinion, would jinx him in the hallways or call him names. His cheeks would redden, but he'd continue on his way as if nothing happened.

The more she found herself watching him, the more something akin to compassion and sympathy swelled up in her chest for him.

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor drew her from her thoughts and she glanced up in time to see the chair Zabini had been reclining in moments ago lying on the ground. The dark-skinned wizard was slowly making his way towards Malfoy, wand drawn and nostrils flaring.

"How about you shut your mouth, you traitor." Blaise seethed, shoving Neville out of his way. A nasty smirk made it's way across his lips and he paused, cocking his head as if in thought. "How's your whore of a mother doing, anyways? Let's hope she's doing enough favors to keep her precious Draco out of harm's way."

She saw Draco tense up out of the corner of her eye, and he moved so quickly that she barely had time to make the stupidest decision in her life.

She stepped between the two wizards, her back to Malfoy and the hand she held her wand in shaking slightly as she trained it on Blaise. She saw Harry and Ron flank either sides of her, wands out but not quite interfering just yet.

"That's quite enough, Zabini." Hermione willed her voice to remain steady. "Whatever point you're trying to prove, it ends now."

Blaise laughed cruelly, ignoring her and directing his next jab to Malfoy again. "How the mighty have fallen! Relying on a Mudblood to fight your battles now, Drake?"

She felt Malfoy lean in and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end when his breath caressed her heated skin. "I don't need your pity or your help, Granger."

She felt her cheeks flush in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Slowly, she lowered her arm and turned to face him. She eyed the angry splotches on his pale cheeks and his empty, clenched fists. He was really planning on defending himself, she realized. Something he hadn't done in months.

She glanced once more at Zabini, feeling her blood boil at his smug expression and the unfair situation the blonde wizard was currently in. Those two things, as well as a feeling she couldn't quite explain blossoming in her chest for the Malfoy heir, aided her in making what was _now_ going to be known as the stupidest decision of her young life.

She forced her wand into Malfoy's slack hand, meeting his dumbfounded expression with a glare. "Fine. Help yourself, then."

She stepped away, situating herself between her two best friends, whom she could see gazing at her as if she'd gone barmy.

Maybe she had.

The silence in the room was deafening. She was never a fan of that phrase, but how true it was in that moment. Hermione observed Malfoy carefully, watching the way his fingers finally curled around the piece of wood, the way his cheeks flushed in excitement and the light that seemed to ignite in his eyes as he felt the magic flow thru his body.

Zabini wavered momentarily at the way the events had unfolded. It took him but a moment to come back to his senses, but that was all the time Draco needed to send a well aimed _stupify _at the other boy. The force of the spell threw Blaise off his feet and into the wall several feet behind him, his limp body sliding to the ground a second later.

Still, not a single person moved or spoke. Hermione felt, rather than saw every single pair of eyes turn to her and Draco, though her attention was on him as well. He was turning her wand over in his hands, his expression back to being neutral and the anger from his tense body slowly diminishing. Then suddenly, as if he'd felt her eyes on him, he looked up and caught her gaze.

She took a step back when he moved forward, fearful that he was going to curse her with her own wand. It was then she realized exactly how vulnerable she left herself, handing over her wand to someone who was still potentially a very large threat.

She wanted to kick herself dearly.

In just a few long strides he was there and Hermione felt herself flinch when he reached for her. She felt something being forced into her palm much like the way she'd done to him, and it was only when the familiar weight rested in her hand did it register that it was her wand.

Her body sagged in relief, only to immediately tense back up when she felt his thumb brush her knuckle gently. She made to peer up at him, eyes wide and uncertain, but he was already halfway to the classroom door. It was only once it slammed shut and everyone began talking and crowding her did Hermione realize he'd slipped something else in her hand.

She opened it just enough to see the dark pink petals of a rose before allowing herself to be herded into the crowd in a daze, scolded by Harry and Ron the whole way.

How in Merlin's name had he conjured it without her noticing?

In the back of her mind, she faintly remembered reading about the meaning of a dark pink rose, but she would make the trip to the library later that night anyway just to double check.

'_A rose of dark pink color is generally given to show gratitude. It is commonly referred to as the 'Thank-You Flower.'' _


End file.
